


Cassian Son of Deimos

by InvisibleSupernova



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Suicide, anxious kinderguardian in a new fireteam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisibleSupernova/pseuds/InvisibleSupernova
Summary: Anxious titan is thrown into a fireteam with mid-identity-crisis-hunter and a babysitter warlock
Kudos: 4





	Cassian Son of Deimos

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! unsure if I'll continue this wanted to do something with what I'd already written. Enjoy:)

“So where’s this third member?” Cassian asked, eying his surroundings. They were down in the Last city, and shops lined the streets, with stalls and carts set up everywhere there was space to be found. The owners were yelling, trying in vain to be louder than their competitors and the crowd. People were milling out and about, haggling, laughing with friends, children crying and playing. They all kept a small distance to the two guardians, as much from awe as fear.  
  
Probably a smart move, he acknowledged, knowing all too well how guardians treated property and death. He had to remind himself to not do the same, and he was practically immortal.  
  
“If I know her right, we’re almost there” The warlock answered. What has her name, June-9? She was an exo with black metal that gleamed in the sun, and something he hoped was red paint splattered on her scalp. Cassian found himself struggling to keep up with her, despite her calm walk.  
  
They’d been walking for almost half an hour by now, and while he wasn’t tired, he was getting anxious. He’d wanted the strike to be over preferably before it even began, though he’d settle for an efficient operation in its stead. Hunting for fireteam members who couldn’t even bother to turn up did not qualify as efficient. Neither did walking because “It’s rude to transmat inside the city.”, but he was more willing to overlook that one.

\--  


They turned right onto a sidestreet, looking significantly shadier then the one they’d left. A few old signs, pale and rusty, marked the shops, but nothing looked open. Curtains or metal bars covered the windows, and one door had been nailed shut, planks randomly crossing the door. A few residents hurried past them, none meeting their eyes.  
  
June-9 seemed to be familiar with the street, and kept walking straight ahead until she stopped in front of an unmarked cellar door, graffiti sprayed across it.  
  
Cassian was just about to ask when she brought out her ghost, letting it scan the door. It spun its shell, twisting and buzzing, then sighed, turning to them.  
  
“They’ve changed the code again.”  
  
“I’d be disappointed it they hadn’t, after our last visit”  
  
“But they know it won’t keep us out, and now I have to decrypt it again!”  
  
June-9 didn’t change her expression at her ghosts whining, but he could see the smile playing in her eyes.  
  
“How long will it take you?”  
  
“Just a few more seconds,” her ghost answered, pouting.  
  
She turned back to Cassian, clearly aware of his confusion.  
  
“Hunter dens usually don’t like warlocks,” she said, gesturing with her hand towards the run down building. “And we’ve visited this one a lot lately.”  
  
“She’s getting predictable, this isn’t like her.” Her ghost chimed in, sounding slightly worried. June-9 didn’t answer, but then she didn’t look very worried either. Cassian, on the other hand, was getting increasingly worried. She turned back towards him.  
  
“Once we get down there, you might want to consider keeping quiet.” Before he could ask why, she continued.  
  
“And when we get back up again, I need you to be ready”  
  
“Ready for what?” He said, but her ghost had finally gotten the door open, and she she had already entered. With a last look at the unkempt street around them, and a deep sigh, he entered after her.

\--  


He caught up to her quickly, and together they walked down a dimly lit staircase, steps worn, not so much from time, but frequent use and bad craftsmanship. He scrunched his nose at the smell of mould.  
  
They soon reached the bottom, where a bored looking hunter was trying to flip a strange looking coin across his knuckles, without much finesse. It looked liked some sort of run down reception or waiting area, with a curtain hung over a broad doorframe, no doubt leading to the actual den.  
  
At the sound of their approach, the hunter looked up, and promptly dropped the coin.  
  
“Hey! No warl-” Whatever he was about to say was cut short as they came close enough for him to distinguish their faces. For a second the hunter stood frozen, jaw dropped, coin forgotten on the floor, but he quickly collected himself.  
  
“She’s not here.” His voice came out short and tense, in sharp contrast to him casually leaning back against the table behind him, no double pressing some kind of alert button.  
  
June-9 starred at the hunter long enough for Cassian’s worry to start growing again, but then she smiled, the smallest of smiles, and said, very softly:  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
The hunter smiled back, but once again his replay came out tense.  
  
“She not welcome here anymore.”  
  
June-9 raised an eyebrow, then pulled away the shabby curtain and walked into the denn. Cassian quickly hurried after her.

\--  


While the facade of the building had been in dire need of a new paint job, and the entry of a renovation, the actual room was surprisingly well maintained. Mismatched furniture stood scattered all over the room, clearly worn, but nothing was stained or broken. The floor was covered in rugs, and maps lay scattered on the tables, and hung on the walls. Some were held up by knives, others were so full of holes they’d clearly been used for target practice. A bar stood not far from where they’d entered, and there were an emergency exit opposite of them, the sign above it off and dusty.  
  
The bar was currently unmanned, but the rest of the room was plenty full. In the dim light he could make out several groups playing cards, and some drinking and relaxing, talking and laughing. Some of the hunters still had helmets on, but most had taken them off, and the atmosphere was friendly.  
  
They were of course noticed as soon as they entered, and the friendly atmosphere was gone in a heartbeat. All conversations stopped, the silence almost thick enough to touch. The hunters stayed still, but everyone was looking at them, hands resting comfortably over their guns.  
  
Cassian felt himself tense up, but June-9 seemed unaffected, casually scanning the crowd. She soon found whoever they were looking for, and camly started walking towards a sofa, with a group of hunters sitting in it. Cassian followed close behind, observing the group.  
  
There were four of them: An exo sitting in a pink fluffy armchair armchair, hands resting behind her neck, grinning confidently as they approached. An awoken man with a sniper rifle as tall as him resting across his lap, eyeing them wearily. Next to him on the sofa was another man with his helmet on, leaned back comfortably, but following their every move, hand resting close to his hip. And, on the other end of the sofa, a female hunter with her helmet on was dealing cards to the others, ignoring their approach and June-9’s stare.  
  
She stopped in front of her, resting one hand on her hip, looking down at the hunter, who had finished dealing the cards.  
  
Ignoring her, the hunter took a short a quick look at her hand, and sighed. Clearly not the cards she’d wished for. She pushed herself up from the sofa with the effortless grace all hunters seemed to possess, and brushed off some invisible dust from her shoulder armor before turning to face the exo. She sounded tired when she spoke.  
  
“Next time, just spare yourself the trouble and call.”  
  
“Now where’s the fun in that?” June-9 asked, voice teasing, like she was talking to a friend.  
  
“The fun,” the hunter said, heavily emphasising the word, “is that I don’t have to figure out another way to sneak in here.” She eyed the other hunters in the den, all eying the exchange. “Just give me a minute and I’ll meet you outside.”  
  
“u-hu.”  
  
“There’s no reason for you to make that face, I’m - stop laughing!”  
  
The hunter turned to her companions, sounding betrayed, which only made them laugh harder. She threw her hands up in frustration and turned to June-9 again, making a dismissive motion with her hand.  
  
“I’ll see you outside.”  
  
Not waiting for a reply, she started walking towards the emergency exit, tugging her hood up. Her ghost appeared, shell spinning and eye blinking. It appeared to ask her something, but she waved the question away with her hand, and then she was out of the door.  
  
That seemed to be some sort of unspoken signal among the other hunters in the den, for Cassain saw them starting to shift restlessly, itching to get up.  
  
June-9 nodded towards the door they’d come thorough.  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
All eyes in the room were on her as she moved towards the door, walking confidently, meeting their stares. Most looked away after a moment or two, but not all. A human hunter with blue hair and dark skin shook his head while smiling, getting something akin of a smile in return from June-9. Cassian wondered if they knew each other.  
  
He was about to follow her, glad to get out of there, when a gloved hand grabbed his arm. Instinctively he tried to tear it away, but the grip was iron solid. Something cold settled in his stomach.  
He looked up from the dark leather glove to its owner. It was the helmeted hunter, who’d leaned forward in the sofa.  
  
“So...” He said, dragging out the words, “I’m surprised they still trust her with kinderguardians.”  
  
“Let. Me. Go.” Cassian was surprised at how steady his voice was, in sharp contrast to his shaky knees.  
  
“You’re sure you want to run back to her?” His face was still covered by the helmet, but Cassian could swear he was smirking.  
  
“Yes.” Cassian was in fact having second thoughts about this whole operation, but didn’t feel like telling that to a stranger. He snatched his arm back, meeting little resistance, and let it fall to his side. Keeping quiet, the hunter tilted his head to the side. Then he spoke again, softly.  
  
“Then what are you waiting for?”  
  
For a moment Cassian stood frozen, undecided, then he turned on his heels and started walking towards the door, as fast as he could without running. The other hunters stares weighed heavily on him, some mocking, some merely curious, but he kept staring straight ahead, keeping his anger balled up inside. Hating himself for not talking back, his knees for turning to jelly, and June-9 for abandoning him to the wolves.  
  
Behind him he heard the hunter call out:  
  
“Ask her about Venus!”  
  
Cassian walked out.

\--  


“That’s the third member of our fireteam?” Cassian asked as soon as they were back outside, unable to keep the anger and disbelief out of his voice.  
  
June-9 was walking a few feet ahead of him, repeatedly scanning the street and rooftops. She was walking even faster than before, and he found himself jogging to keep up.  
  
After a few seconds, long enough that he’d started thinking she hadn’t heard him, she answered.  
  
“Yes.” No further explanation was given. Cassian felt his stomach tie itself into a tight knot of worry. This was the person whose hands he was putting his life into? He hadn’t had any say in the members of this fireteam. He’d been assigned to June-9 by a tired Zavala, and she’d chosen this third hunter. He’d hated being so out of control, but swallowed his anxiousness, trying to be like the other guardians. This however, was past his limit.  
  
“Who is she?”  
  
“She’s the- finally!”  
  
Something came flying over their heads, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. He whipped his head around in time to see a worn cloak disappearing over the next rooftop, flapping from the speed. As he watched, two hunters appeared on the opposite rooftop, not hesitating to make the same jump. The first one just managed to grab hold of the edge of the roof, and quickly pulled himself up to continue the chase. The second one wasn’t as lucky. He desperately stretched his hand out as he approached the wall, but didn’t have enough height and came crashing into the wall, falling down onto the street.  
  
He landed with a thump and a snap, crying out. The hunter’s ghost popped out, scanning him as he slowly propped himself upright, clearly in pain. Cassian recognised him from the den, it was the same hunter that had tried to deny them entrance. Quickly finishing up the scan, the ghost told him something, and before Cassian could move, the hunter had shot himself, brains and blood painting the wall behind him.  
  
Cassian threw up.  
  
A hand grabbed his arm, dragging him away from the scene. Cassian stumbled after, not able to process it.  
  
“He just… he shot himself.”  
  
“Probably quicker to rez him then heal it, they’re probably in a hurry if they’re trying to get to her.” June-9 answered absently, leading him through an ally, following the hunt from the streets. It took Cassian a moment to process her words.  
  
“Her? Wait… That’s her? We’re running the strike with a fugitive?”  
  
“Her name is Silen and she’s not a fugitive, come on, this way.” She led them to a small backstreet behind a small bar. Full trash bags were lying around, pigeons ripping them open and fighting over their contents. As they rounded the corner they starled the birds, who flew a few meters away, not quite afraid enough to abandon their prize.  
  
He felt her let go of his arm, and had to fight to keep himself upright, knees still shaky. By the traveler, guardians are fucked up, he thought to himself, trying to spit out the last taste of vomit from his mouth. The pigeons jumped a bit further away, more out of habit then fear. Maybe just because of the smell.  
  
While he’d been trying to pull himself together, June-9 had walked to the far wall of the allay, bending down to pick something up. It took him a moment to recognize the worn fabric; it was Silen’s cloak, dusty from the flight and alley. She held it up in front of her, considering it for a moment, before she started searching it, carefully going over the fabric.  
  
Feeling a bit steadier, he made his way over to her, couldn’t help feeling a bit curious.  
  
“There we go.” she said, fishing out a bit of paper from a hidden pocket. It looked like a piece ripped from a leaflet, pink and blue with a fancy font. She turned it over. The other side had something hastily scribbled on it, that was illegible to Cassian.  
  
“Coordinates” She said, seeing his confusion. “Looks like we’re meeting her outside the city.”  



End file.
